Sand Castles

Old friend I remember now

your drawing lines in the sand,

blueprint for the sandcastle

we intended to build once we'd mastered

the intricacies of the tide's

mercurial manners. How

we spent months and months

detailing the turrets, exactly

where each gun accorded maximum

compatibility, synchroneity

against any and all invaders.

You knew your history, far more

than I, all the world's rogues--

how Agamemnon breached Priam's walls

while the watchmen slept (I drifted

in and out on a cloud) when the Senones

crossing the northern line at Allia

sacked noblest Rome (the gulls' solstice feast),

and Saladin's eastern horde swept David's wall

and temple knights aside. Your memories

of antiquity seemed bred into your bones,

almost as if your mother's milk came

from a godlier font than mine.

You know I still can smell the heavenly twists

she set down to carry us through the long siege

of a summer storm, the chocolate chips

in blackberry jam, washed down with a Dr Pepper.

I remember how the winter's turning

brought us to our next enthusiasm. The summer

of discovery, that one of us could hit. And

how you eventually cracked the code and unlocked

the mysteries from the back of a baseball card

(opening up a whole other can of worms.)

Epstein and Holtzman were not better than

Jackson and Blue, not even close--but yes

Finley was an a*s, we both agreed on that.

Though I never understood your insistence I keep Flood

from my Raleigh chopper's spokes, or why

the five guys in robes should ever have consumed the spaces

between innings you filled that long tragic afternoon

the Pirates swept, when Clemente never showed

(a bum leg I recall,) I've always been thankful.

On the train coming home, that woman's indignant huff

when you shouted, “ERA isn't worth a damn,

it's meaningless!” I wonder if she ever knew

just how right you were?

I haven't forgotten the New Year's Eve

no one wants to remember. Your father,

the bitterness of your laugh, “what a f****n'

senseless way to go,” the morning you told me

you had no intention of ever learning how to drive.

That was when I first learned some aches can't ever

be wiped away by boys' bantering insistence.

When, if I had to put a finger on it,

we first diverged. My path through the world

would never confront the organic obstructions

you seemed to have been born to.

The tides would carry us far away

from the tidy sandcastles we'd built,

the balls and strikes of life carried on,

handing us wins and losses, stats

of a different kind. New York, Vancouver,

Tel Aviv, Singapore, Toronto, Toronto

at different times. A marriage, a marriage,

a divorce, a marriage, a divorce (two for you

I heard), kids, no kids, a granddaughter,

passed along the mother's grapevine.

Occasionally a read, when one of us found our way

into the daily news, added a bit of flesh to the bones

of the ghosts we'd become. I didn't forget, I doubt

you did either, even if it's four decades since

we last argued the merits of ERA.

You were right, it isn't worth a damn.

An absolutely meaningless stat.

I'm sorry old friend, I missed your mother's funeral.

Circumstances beyond my control had me far away

in another land. My mother says you haven't changed,

the same strident boy drawing lines in the sand,

dreaming of sand castles to stand the test of time.

I miss you, your mom's heavenly twists,

the cold sweet rinse of a Dr Pepper,

arguing why Holtzman was never as good as Blue.

Ken e Bujold

© 2022

Reviews

[Perdition]

An honor is this poetry and all that's more. This is not the poetry for review but the stoppage of time and more than mere appreciation. The subtle capitalizations and visuals, the use of words outfitted with history and spokes, baseball and something other than mere modality...in short even the addition of Dr. Pepper leaves me staggering for the origin of this currency ...for the undertow to sweep it all together or away until I remember our run of life. Perhaps just those things to which we deem and gather then place senselessly into a box and most importantly misunderstood until later years. Just brilliant writing and truly "a godlier font than mine" . Applause or appraisal is just simply not the case here but all of that senseless nonsense all the same. "synchroneity" ...seriously?..hahaha. Thank you ken!

[Ken e Bujold]

glad you enjoyed Perdition, And thank you ever so much for the kind review. As I enter the backstretch I am waking to the fact that history is what is written, in books and by living men. The small and mundane are just as grand and large as the bold strokes of antiquity. And yes "synchroneity" a great word.

[Nima.Hope]

This poem was a journey through many places and abstract ideas, I myself really enjoyed it. Your use of historical icons such as Saladin and David, is brilliant my friend.
Hats off to you
P.S: I've not been in a good mood recently because of the protests in Iran and the way Iranians are being killed. I would be glad if you could comment on my latest poem"Whisper of Freedom", thank you Ken.

[John the Baptist]

This offering comes across as a memoir of a fond relationship of the distant past. The impression is the speaker and the addressee have not seen each other for many years, and one gets the feeling of regret at the long separation. Close childhood/adolescent relationships often dissolve, but the feeling that was once there perseveres, if only in memory. After reading this one, we hope that someday there will be a reunion.

[Ken e Bujold]

he and i see each other on rare occasions. friendship still exists though not nearly as hot as in our youth.That is just the way of life. We both went on to live lives that have been successful and that pulled us as the poem says around the world, the tides of live as you say. The genesis for the poem was the last verse, and me thinking on it

[Fabian G. Franklin]

The universe is in entropy and everything is temporary. But I enjoyed this heartfelt write while it lasted. I completely understand the friendship expressed. My best friend's husband passed away from brain cancer last year and I was unable to make that funeral. But friends remain friends regardless of time and space and I gave her my apologies in person after her recent surgery when I was able to be there. I had one old friend from my childhood show up after twenty years of being halfway around the world and we went out and drank a beer and chatted like he'd only been away a day. He looked me square in the eyes and said, "You know why I love you? You are one of things in life that never changes. A lot of crap can come down but I can depend on you to be the same guy I've always known." I just said, yeah, I'm stubborn like that. Great read.

[Ken e Bujold]

thank you Fabian for the very kind review.

[Swagato Saha]

Poignantly expressed.
And the form holds up pretty well too. I'd like to hear your thoughts on that.

[Ken e Bujold]

very interesting question Swagato. One which I think deserves an in-depth answer. So, give me a bit of time, and I will send you a PM with my thoughts.

[Coyote Poetry]

We do built many sandcastles Ken. I liked the flow of places and the thoughts. I believe we are building blocks, just adding and deleting. Becoming, who we suppose to be. Thank you for sharing the outstanding poetry. I enjoyed the journey.
Coyote

[Ken e Bujold]

thank you for the kind review Coyote

[Coyote Poetry]

You are welcome Ken.

[Dave Brown]

A wonderful remembrance of an old friend and it is unfortunate that for whatever reason, they slip away.
Baseball was not my thing but I strongly related to those cards flapping in the spokes
My first bike was so big I had to put one leg beneath the top bar
great read

[Ken e Bujold]

thanks dave. as we age it seems, at least for me, the mind finds itself demanding an acknowledgement of the untended to past

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

This is really wonderful. From the wonderul childhood memoriees To the heartfelt regrets to your friend.

[Ken e Bujold]

thanks dale. took a bit of time to compose, the events of the last verse were almost a yr ago now. one of my best friends growing up but as life often does, we went separate ways, and it is a big world easy to lose one another in